Philosophy Is Properly Home-sickness; The Wish To

To Become Properly Acquainted With A Truth, We Must First Have Disbelieved It, And Disputed Against It.

If The World Is A Precipitation Of Human Nature, So To Speak, Then The Divine World Is A Sublimation Of The Same. Both Occur In One Act. No Precipitation Without Sublimation. What Goes Lost There In Agility, Is Won Here.

Everything At A Distance Turns Into Poetry; Distant Mountains, Distant People, Distant Events; All Become Romantic.

Play Is Experimenting With Chance.

Doing Philosophy Is Only A Threefold Or Double Kind Of Waking--being Awake--consciousness.